A Glass of Liquid

I am water. I am wine. I am bloody piss of a swine. Whatever I am, I am just lying still in a glass. The table might be different and so can be the liquid but it stays still. Never moves. Never Shakes. It never sends even so much so as a ripple. It just stays still, waiting for eternity. Absorbed in the liquid is years and years of tranquility derived from the system of nothingness.


We grew coz we had to. We ate and drank coz we had to. We read coz everyone did the same thing and it seemed an obvious choice. Now we are still living the way we do coz nobody ever suggested a better thing. Probably after years of training, I am now behaving like a horse with flaps on both sides of the eyes who can look and act only in one direction. Years of training has killed the human desires amongst us. We all have become trees of stunted growth. We are bonsais who remain static, ages and dies but never so mush so creates a ripple.


But I still am a glass of liquid (which one I don't know); ready to seep into soil. I still crave to make something grow.